


Green Is The Colour

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [17]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Burnplay, Cigarettes, Detective Noir, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘You’re looking at me an awful lot,’ Ricky says softly, eyes down, ‘does the smoke bother you?’‘N-no,’ Chris grits out, ‘not… it’s not that at all.’ Ricky smirks, plucking the cigarette from his lips and holding it between his thumb and forefinger.‘Give me your hand,’ he says, softer still. As if in a trance, Chris extends his arm and allows Ricky to curl his fingers around his wrist.Employed to find Ricky's missing business partner, Chris has no leads. However, it seems like his client might be as interested in him as he is in Chris' progress on the case.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Green Is The Colour

Chris looks up from his paperwork and feels his mouth drop open at the sight of the person who’s just slipped through his door. It’s late and dark already. The only light in the room is the pool on his desk from the lamp, and the orangey slices that peek through the slats of the blinds over the window from the street outside. 

‘M-Mr Olson?’ Chris says, chair scrapping a little as he gets to his feet. Mr Olson — Ricky he’d said to call him — closes the door to Chris’ office behind him with a soft click. He flicks the lock and carefully closes the blinds, before turning to face Chris. 

‘Good evening, Mr Motionless,’ he murmurs, tipping his head a little to the side as he takes Chris in. ‘I wondered if there had been any progress on my case?’ His mouth curves. He’s dressed sharply and entirely in black, even the hat and umbrella in his hands are black. 

He’d come into Chris’ office earlier than week. It had been raining that night as well and Ricky’s hair had been wet, slicked back off his face. He looked quite pathetic when he’d begged Chris to agree to take his case; the search for his missing business partner. From the softening of his expression when he spoke about him, Chris surmised they had been doing more than business together. _Interesting._

‘Of course,’ Chris says, picking up the file from his desk and gestures for Ricky to take a seat on his couch. He sits, and Chris can’t help but notice how glossy and inviting Ricky looks against his faded couch. Ricky crossed his legs, hand smoothing the crease back in the fabric on his thigh. 

Chris pulls one of the chairs away from his desk to sit, ankle resting on his knee, as Ricky takes a cigarette from his case and offers it to Chris.

‘Oh, uh, no thanks, I don’t,’ Chris says shyly, shaking his head. Ricky’s mouth twitches, his lips are deep pink, and Chris wonders if he’s laughing at him. Ricky lights the cigarette and takes a drag, exhaling smoke like a silvery, silken thread. He looks down, glancing at Chris from under his eyelashes. 

‘Long week?’ Chris says, flicking through the file to have something to do with his hands. 

‘Oh,’ Ricky says, sighing out smoke, ‘the _longest_.’ Chris gives him a sympathetic smile. 

‘This is what I have so far,’ Chris says, handing over the file, ‘—it’s not a lot, I’m not going to lie.’ Ricky accepts the file, setting the cigarette between his lips. Chris can’t take his eyes off it. He flicks through the papers in the file. Ricky exhales more smoke and Chris feels a kick of heat, shifting slightly forward in his seat. He wants to suck the smoke from his lips. 

‘Are you sure you don’t want a cigarette?’ Ricky says, pink mouth curving. Chris blinks realising he’s staring. He clears his throat. 

‘No,’ he says again, accepting the folder when Ricky hands it back. Chris moves back to his desk, setting down the folder. He hears Ricky sigh and turns to look at him. 

‘I couldn’t have a drink, could I?’ he asks, looking down again, and Chris rounds his desk to grab the bottle of scotch from the lowest draw. He doesn’t indulge himself. Not a habit he wants to risk forming — not in his line of work. He snags a tumbler and pours two fingers of amber liquid into the glass, handing it to Ricky as he comes to sit opposite him. Ricky takes it and sips. 

‘You… you must miss him terribly,’ Chris says, eyes flicking to the cigarette in Ricky’s other hand. 

‘Yes…’ Ricky murmurs, ‘and no. We had a fight, months ago now, but it just wasn’t the same after. Honestly, when he disappeared I thought he’s finally found a way to get his assets out of the company and had fucked off for good.’ He takes another drag. ‘It was only when I saw his apartment was trashed that I called the police.’ 

Chris nods, he knew the rest of the story from there. The police weren’t interested. No body. No blood. No crime as far as they were concerned. It was an unhappy story but not an unfamiliar one. Chris was surprised he could still find himself disgusted by their apathy. 

Setting his glass on the arm of the couch, Ricky takes out another cigarette and Chris offers him the ashtray for his butt. Ricky puts the cigarette in mouth to light as Chris watches. 

‘You’re looking at me an awful lot,’ Ricky says softly, eyes down, ‘does the smoke bother you?’ 

‘N-no,’ Chris grits out, ‘not… it’s not that at all.’ Ricky smirks, plucking the cigarette from his lips and holding it between his thumb and forefinger. 

‘Give me your hand,’ he says, softer still. As if in a trance, Chris extends his arm and allows Ricky to curl his fingers around his wrist. 

‘I’ve known men like you before,’ Ricky says, thumb stroking over Chris' knuckles.

‘Men like me?’ Chris repeats, trying to keep his voice even. But every stroke of Ricky’s fingers is travelling rapidly South and making sitting in the chair uncomfortable. Ricky turns Chris’ hand over so that his palm is face up cupped in Ricky’s. Chris can see the branching, blue veins in his wrist. 

‘You're all the same,’ Ricky says, ‘—in love with mystery, in love with the chase, in love with the fire.’ Chris feels his body tense. _Did he mean…?_

Ricky brings the cigarette to hover over Chris’ inner wrist. Chris bites the back of his tongue, resisting the urge to snatch his hand back. Ricky’s eyes flick to Chris’ face. Chris looks back, seeing the lamp light reflected in the depths of Ricky’s eyes. 

Ricky looks away first, taking another drag from the cigarette. Then he bends, pulling Chris’ arm closer before licking a wet stripe across his wrist. They both look at Chris’ glistening skin before Ricky closes his fingers around the back of his wrist and stubs the butt out in the small dip just below the thick part of Chris’ palm, where his hand is joined to his wrist. 

For a moment Chris feels nothing but then the pain lances up his arm up to his elbow. He feels a rush of hot then cold flood through his body, his skin prickling with sweat. He gasps and Ricky lets him go sitting back on the couch. Ricky watches him, unspeaking, eyes dropping to where Chris’ cock is now very visibly straining against his fly. Chris pants, letting his forearm rest against his thigh, refusing to look up at Ricky.

Ricky takes out another cigarette. Chris feels like he can feel the smoke on his skin like tiny rivulets. The burn stings and he examines it; a puckered starburst. 

‘Come here,’ Ricky says. Chris lifts his arm but Ricky sits up and pulls Chris closer to him by the back of his neck, fingertips brushing Chris’ collar. 

When they’re almost cheek to cheek, Chris breathing in the smoke from Ricky’s exhale, Ricky lets go of the back of his neck. Chris doesn’t move as he feels Ricky’s fingertips on his fly. Ricky takes another drag as he slips a hand inside Chris’ underwear. Chris huffs out a breath as Ricky starts to stroke his dick. 

‘Open your mouth,’ Ricky says as he takes another drag. Chris does, breathing in as Ricky exhales. He doesn’t hate the smell of smoke or the taste of it. It catches in his throat and Chris holds his breath for a moment. Ricky’s hand is still tight on his cock as he works him. Chris lets out the breath out heavily, twitching into Ricky’s hand. 

Chris bites his lip, his gut twisted tight. His wrist is still stinging insistently, throbbing in time with his pulse, just like his cock is. He kisses the side of Ricky’s mouth, along his jaw and down his neck. Chris feels Ricky’s breath as he blows smoke along the line of his neck, making his skin tinkle. He moans softly, letting his head press into Ricky’s shoulder. 

Ricky cups the back of his head with the hand holding his cigarette. Chris groans, hips jerking up into Ricky’s touch. 

‘Give me your hand,’ Ricky mutters into his ear. Chris gives him the other hand this time and Ricky sits up, adjusting his grip on Chris cock. He tenses, imagining for a moment the heat on the sensitive skin of his dick. But Ricky gestures for his hand. 

‘Keep still,’ Ricky says and Chris lays his forearm across his thigh. Ricky starts to jerk him harder and rougher until Chris is twisted up tight flushed and panting. Ricky puts his thumb in his mouth, sucking it, then he reaches for Chris’ arm, fingers pushing his rolled up shirt sleeve further and wipes his wet thumb into the ditch of Chris’ elbow. Chris barely feels the cool of his saliva on his skin before the heat as Ricky’s presses the cigarette into his skin. Chris gasps; the pain more intense this time. 

Chris feels his stomach twitch inwards as Ricky strokes him, making his back arch away from the back of the chair. Ricky drops the butt, catching Chris by the elbow, kissing him hard as he presses his thumb into the new burn. Chris hisses through his teeth feeling the mix of pleasure and pain peak and crash over him all at once as comes. 

Ricky strokes him through the orgasm until Chris shivers and squirms before he lets him go. Chris gasps dropping back in the chair. Before Chris has thoroughly surfaced from the post-orgasmic daze, Ricky stands. He cups Chris’ chin for a moment before snorting softly and stepping around him towards the door. 

‘Wait,’ Chris says, stumbling upright to fix his clothes. Ricky’s got the door open when Chris turns to him. 

‘Can’t, doll,’ Ricky says, smirking, ‘— call me if you get a lead.’ He turns on his heel and disappears out of sight, leaving Chris standing in the middle of his office hand half-raised. Chris can feel the stinging of the matching pair of burns on his wrist and inner elbow. Chris moves over to his desk and sits heavily, head still spinning. He can smell smoke on his clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have some recurrent interests.. 😅
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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